


Strawberries and Champagne

by celluloidbroomcloset



Category: The Avengers (TV)
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-05 01:41:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4160814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celluloidbroomcloset/pseuds/celluloidbroomcloset
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A morning turns even more interesting than usual for Steed and Emma Peel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strawberries and Champagne

Emma Peel awoke to find her lover, friend, life-partner, what-have-you, standing above their bed with a breakfast tray piled high with a bottle of champagne, a large bowl of large strawberries, and a single rose in a silver vase. Two thoughts concurrently crossed her mind: what a very light breakfast, and why had he bothered to put on pajamas?

 

“What time is it?” she asked, glancing at the thin rays of sun coming through the bedroom curtains.

 

“Six.”

 

Steed set the tray down on the bedside table and got back into bed next to her.

 

“To answer the questions undoubtedly speeding through that delectable mind: I could not sleep; consider this an aperitif before the main course; and…”

 

With remarkable speed and dexterity, Steed had tossed the pajama bottoms onto the floor and shimmied beneath the covers.

 

Emma laughed. “For a man as vain about his style as a peacock about its feathers, you’re remarkably adept at removing your clothing.”

 

“A testament to your attractions, m’dear.”

 

Steed poured out two glasses of the excellent champagne – she knew it was excellent before tasting it, for Steed suffered nothing less – and passed one to her.

 

“Mm. What’s the occasion?”

 

“The occasion is strawberries in the refrigerator and the bottle I forgot about last night.”

 

“What could have possibly made you forget…oh, yes.”

 

Steed glanced at her. “Had no idea you were so flexible.”

 

“All of those Keep Fit classes.”

 

“Marvelous,” he purred.

 

A rather powerful sense memory of last night emerged from the haze of the early morning. Emma touched her glass to her lips.

 

“Drunk before breakfast,” said Emma. “We are growing decadent.”

 

“We were always decadent.” Steed sipped and breathed a happy sigh. “And we shan’t get drunk. Drunkenness would rather complicate what I have in mind.”

 

Emma smiled, a touch coyly. “And what do you have in mind?”

 

The answer, as she expected, was a deep and champagne-flavored kiss. She succeeded in not sloshing her own glass everywhere, but that ability came from long practice. As Steed leaned back once more against his own pillows, she recognized the little twin sparks that shone in his eyes.

 

He turned and plucked a strawberry from the bowl, presenting it to her like a flower. Emma went to take it, but he shook his head.

 

“Lie back,” he said.

 

He traced the tip of the strawberry over her lips. She opened her mouth and bit into the soft, sweet flesh.

 

“Strawberries and champagne,” she said. “This is a cliché, Steed.”

 

“But a good one.”

 

He finished the strawberry she’d begun and took another from the bowl. Emma shifted, awaiting whatever he intended.

 

Steed dipped the strawberry into his glass of champagne and ran it down her chest between her breasts, leaving a trail of effervescent liquid behind. The sensation was pleasantly cool as Steed circled one nipple with the fruit.

 

“A very good one,” he said.

 

Emma closed her eyes, one hand snaking into his thick, curly hair to hold his head against her. His lips were gentle enough when they took the berry off her chest, lapping the remains of the champagne from her breast. The nip of his teeth made her start.

 

“I sometimes wonder if you plot these things,” she said, drawing his head back. “You’re never awake before me.”

 

He smiled down at her. “Darling! I simply awoke this morning, noted how delicious your body was, and the rest planned itself.”

 

Emma traced the circle of his ear with her fingertip. “You’re a dangerous man, Steed.”

 

“I’m a very lucky man.” He took her lips gingerly with his own.

 

“Now it’s my turn.”

 

Emma rose up, forcing Steed to shift back against the pillows. She took a strawberry from the bowl and lowered it into his mouth. It had barely passed his lips when she withdrew it, making him snap at the open air.

 

“Tease,” he said.

 

“You should talk.”

 

She placed the small berry between his lips and then covered his mouth with hers. The sweet tang of the berry mixed with the champagne still on his mouth. No man had ever been half so intoxicating. Her hand skirted over his groin.

 

“Wonderful,” she whispered, nuzzling at his neck as her fingers touched his burgeoning erection.

 

“I can’t…quite…disagree.”

 

His voice was a touch strangled. Studied seduction was gradually giving way, it seemed. She tossed back the covers and descended his body, pressing a single kiss to his abdomen before settling over his legs.

 

There was, and had always been, a freedom in their lovemaking that Emma had not even known was possible prior to Steed. She had not realized one could laugh, or tease, quite as much in bed. Emma had discovered that there were certain acts she enjoyed with Steed that she had never imagined enjoying.

 

She kissed the very tip of his penis. Her eyes met his before she lowered her mouth, sucking on him as she had on the strawberry. He gave a choked sigh and wriggled his hips, settling into the mattress. The taste of him melded with the champagne and fruit, a distinctive saltiness to go with the sweet. Another sigh and she rested a hand on his abdomen, lowering her head further, taking more of him into her mouth. She felt his hand close around hers, then slide up to hold her shoulder as she moved her head. He always seemed compelled to touch her while she did this – stroking her hair, holding her hand. A tender gesture in the midst of a tender act. Soon she was lost in the taste of him, the feel of him between her lips and on her tongue. the sounds he made, his groans and grunts of pleasure. The pressure of his hand on her increased. He was not forcing her, but begging for the satisfaction she was only too happy to give. There was no other man she would do this for or to. There was no other man she wanted.

 

Her body began to demand attention too, and Emma didn’t think to stop her free hand from slipping between her thighs, rubbing herself as she sucked on him. His body began trembling and the hand on her shoulder gripped her tight. She ached but he was close. His hips lifted off the bed and she felt him come, his voice a stifled grunt of satisfaction, the musky warmth flooding over her tongue.

 

“Oh, Emma,” said Steed, his hand caressing her shoulder.

 

She smiled up at him, licking her lips. She saw him take in the sight of her, the undying affection in his eyes and in his smile, not just for this, but for everything. A sense of pride filled her to know that she could satisfy him so completely. She kissed his stomach and rested for a moment on the steadiness of his breath.

 

“Come here,” he said and pulled her up towards him.

 

They kissed. She could still taste him on her tongue and knew he could taste himself – this intimacy odd and profound at the same time. He smiled against her lips. Wordless still, he slid down in the bed and she slid up, coming to rest over his head. He kissed her with studied delicacy and then separated her with his fingers, slipping his tongue as far into her as he could. Emma braced herself against the headboard, biting on her own knuckle while he pleasured her. He licked her, kissed her, avoiding doing much more than brushing against her clitoris, to draw out the moment until it would become unbearable. She imagined his face, his hands, his naked body under hers, listened to her own gasps and moans, as uncontrollable as his had been. The tip of his tongue just barely touched her clitoris and she cried out, pressing down towards him, begging him to finish her.

 

But he wasn’t done. Even as she grew close, he suddenly withdrew. His hands guided her down and turned her over onto the mattress. Steed drew her legs up over his shoulders and lifted her slightly. Desperate to appease the nearly painful throbbing between her legs, she squirmed, trying to hold his head down, or at least direct it to her neglected clitoris. Steed’s eyes met hers and held her gaze as his hand closed around her left breast. He pinched at the nipple at the same time he lowered his head and flicked his tongue against her clitoris. A bolt went through her. He did it again and her legs seized, grasping at the orgasm just out of reach. The third time and her whole body tightened.

 

“Please, Steed, please,” she begged, unashamed of the whine in her voice.

 

He dipped his head again, flickering his tongue over her until she was arching off the bed, crying out first silently and then in a shout that filled the room, her whole body bright with the pleasure he gave.

 

Emma did not become aware of anything for several minutes afterwards. When she remembered to open her eyes, she looked down at Steed. He rested on her pelvis, kissing the soft skin, his big hands holding onto her hips. She twined her fingers in his hair and he glanced up.

 

“Far too pleased with yourself, aren’t you?” she said.

 

“Never.” He slid up beside her and laid one hand over her aching genitals.

 

“A bit tender, dear.”

 

“Sorry,” he said. “Let me know when you’re recovered. This back and forth is all very well, but I’d like to make proper love to you.”

 

“What was that, then?”

 

“Highly improper.”

 

As she looked into his slightly smug but forgivable face, Emma felt a welling of love. Her darling Steed. She wished she could tell him exactly what she felt. “I love you,” had been said so many times now, but seemed a pale and simplistic phrase that did no justice to the feeling of attachment so profound that it surpassed description. It had taken too long to admit it - and caused some heartache for them both – but she accepted that she loved him beyond any reason or rationality and that, whatever happened now, she would be with him for the rest of her life.

 

His grey eyes seemed to reflect her thoughts, or something like them. His voice cracked oddly when he said,

 

“More champagne?”

 

They lay there, interspersing kisses amid the champagne, and for a few minutes actually eating the strawberries as they were intended to be eaten.

 

“I must be in love with you,” said Emma after awhile.

 

“I’m very lovable, I know, but what brings this on?”

 

She shrugged. “It simply occurred to me.”

 

Another pause, pregnant with suggestion. Steed cleared his throat.

 

“Have you ever considered…that is to say, have WE ever considered, marriage?”

 

“I’ve tried it once, you know. It didn’t take.”

 

“You’ve never tried it with me.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “I’d make a good husband. I’m clean, well-brought up, and I’ll do the washing up. What more would you want? ”

 

“Ah, but would I make a good wife? I won’t bring you your slippers, you know.”

 

“What about my pipe?”

 

“You don’t smoke a pipe.” She paused. “You’d have to do the cooking.”

 

“I already do. I’ll keep your maths notes organized and attend those bloody boring lectures.”

 

“And I’ll go to the horse races and stock car rallies.”

 

“Good, that’s settled, then.” Steed filled their glasses. “To you, Mrs. Steed.”

 

“To you, Mr. Steed.”

 

Emma stared straight ahead for a moment, wondering what had just happened.

 

“Steed, are you serious?”

 

“I never joke about such serious matters.” He looked at her. “I’d like to be your husband. Would you like to be my wife?”

 

“Yes.”

 

The word was out of her mouth before she even thought about it. At practically the same instant, she realized that she meant it. Marrying Steed would be nothing like marrying Peter, or marrying anyone, for that matter. They were very much not a traditional couple, and were unlikely to be. Their lives were tied together already, so tightly that nothing short of death could possibly sunder them now.

 

“Shall we shake on it?” said Steed, offering his free hand. Emma took it and concluded the agreement in a businesslike manner. Then their eyes met and both burst out laughing. They were still laughing as they kissed, still giggling as the champagne sloshed over the edges of their glasses and dampened the sheets.

 

Steed rolled her over so he was on top and kissed her eyes, her cheeks, and finally her mouth, lingering there until the heat built and she could feel his burgeoning erection between her thighs. Her body tingled all over when he lowered his head to nibble delicately on one nipple.

 

“You’re better than champagne,” he mumbled against her skin.

 

“Flatterer.”

 

His mouth locked onto hers, sucking her lips and tongue seeking hers. For a moment, they just kissed. Then she spread her legs and felt him ease himself in. Emma moaned in his ear as he drew out and back in.

 

“You’re the perfect size,” she whispered.

 

His mouth found hers again and they kissed, languid as a Sunday morning. Soon they were lost in each other. She responded to the rhythm of his thrusts, until they locked into a building crescendo. Waves of pleasure moved up and down her body, like a tide approaching and bursting on the beach. Without rush, they moved in tandem, as complementary to each other in this as they were in all things. She spoke his proper name as a gasp between thrusts and suddenly they both grew frenzied, their wild grunts and groans intermingling in the cool still air, sweat-sheened bodies pressed together. She bit his shoulder as she heaved, claiming him as her own.

 

The orgasm burst upon her almost unexpectedly, so powerful she could not pull herself back, and she cried out loudly as she crested, her vision for a moment obscured to all but her own pleasure. He was nearly there too; she could feel it in the breaking, uneven rhythm. When he came she was fully aware of it, of his flexed muscles, of the rush inside her, and the trembling of his body. Then they both went slack, as though everything had been taken from the one and given to the other.

 

Emma cradled her lover’s head, her face buried in his neck. She closed her eyes and drank the sweet warm scent of him.

 

“Oh, I love you,” he said.

 

She smiled. “My darling Steed. Better than champagne.”


End file.
